


24th Century Caesar (or: The Lingering Depravity of Moral Decay)

by bug_from_space



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Ancient History, Character Growth, Character Study, Gen, Genetic Engineering, Genetically Engineered Beings, Introspection, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, Starfleet Academy, annihilation fantasies, dark fanatsies, it really isn't as dark as the tile makes it out to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 00:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17314382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bug_from_space/pseuds/bug_from_space
Summary: “Have you talked to a counsellor about these annihilation fantasies?“Do you think I should?” You smile, laugh, and flirt, and pretend there wasn’t a time you dreamed of the world burning at your feet.





	24th Century Caesar (or: The Lingering Depravity of Moral Decay)

**Author's Note:**

> So I finished DS9 and got inspired to do a piece for Julian where he's a little less awkward penguin in his youth. Because you get moments where he isn't totally nice seeming? Anywhere constructive criticism is appreciated! I hope you enjoy my slightly darker look at everyone's favourite doctor!

_“Have you talked to a counselor about these annihilation fantasies?_

_“Do you think I should?” You smile, laugh, and flirt, and pretend there wasn’t a time you dreamed of the world burning at your feet._

~~

You’re six years old when everything you know is swept out from under your feet. Your perception of reality became different. Sharper. You’re six years old when your mother brings you a book about ancient civilizations because you're smart now, and the lack of stimulation is driving you insane. So she brings you a book, and then another, and then another. Until you can tell her about the foods they ate, and the battle plans of great rulers (and about how to improve them).

It’s a month into your stay at the hospital when you start reading about humanity’s progression into the cosmos. You have the blueprints of a handful of the earliest ships memorized, and have started to create battle plans, and troop movements based off the stories of old. Zefram Cochrane’s designs are printed onto the mind of a child who’s perception of the world are changing at a rapid fire rate. The map of the stars is studied by an eager six year old, and no one thinks to question your interest in the battles past, about soldiers long dead.

You’re seven when you come home and move schools. And it’s somewhere in the shift from hospital back to reality that the dreams of planets becoming ash turn into something tangible. The idea of becoming a God. The idea of becoming an emperor like the ones you’ve read about, and watching as all those who would dare hurt you a forced to burn under the light of a thousand starships. You fantasise about a world where you wouldn’t have to hide your enhancements, where you could be your without fear. (And if you have to be the one to create the new world order than so be it.)

You’re seven when you move schools (and again, and again) because someone was getting suspicious, and Jules Bashir is reborn again. This time you get better at hiding the things that make you different, at pretending that no part of you excels far past the rest of your peers. (You dream of a spaceship descending and of blowing away the debris of the world that looks at people like you with fear, and hatred.) You’re seven when the plans for a ship with world ending capabilities starts to form.

You learn to avoid the hospitals if you can, because Doctors are terrifying. They know about the body, they know more than you think you ever will, and they are Gods, capable of saving or condemning men to death (judge, jury, _executioner_ ). Doctors did this to you, and when you become the Emperor over stars and planets, you will make it a speciality profession because too many people with that amount of power are dangerous. (Doctors know everything, Doctors did this to you, Doctors hold the power to make your world come tumbling down again.)

You are fifteen when you change your name to Julian. Because Jules is the name of a scared six year old who didn’t understand what was happening, and Julian is the name of the future galactic leader. (Julian derived from Julius, like Caesar.) Julian is the name you choose for yourself because it’s smarter, it’s respectable. Julian Bashir is the name people will whisper. (And no one will even remember the name of Khan Noonien Singh, who never even managed to take claim over the entire Earth.)

You’re fifteen when you decide that you want to become a doctor. Because how better to defeat your fear than to become it? (Your teachers congratulate you on such a good choice, they tell your parents you’ll go far, and no one suspects that Julian Bashir is slightly less genuine than they want to believe.) No one questions your desire to study medicine, no one thinks the motivations might not be righteous. You’re fifteen when you think this is the path to ascendancy, to divinity.

You’re twenty when you are accepted into Starfleet, and you laugh slightly at it. They have no idea what they’ve done. Some of your classmates whisper about the strange Bashir boy, about how he’s charming and charismatic but cold- distant. You befriend an engineering student, and you perfect the blueprints with updated information.

You’re twenty-two when you realize you’ve settled into the rhythm an order of being a student. And how you haven’t dreamed of people fearing the name Julian Bashir in months. (You aren’t sure if it’s a relief or not; it’s been a pillar of yourself for as long as you’ve been Julian Bashir.) You’ve become complacent, content to observe the world. And you think, you’re happier for it. You watch as the beauty of becoming a God is rubbed away.

You’re older when the Dominion comes, and you find yourself standing on the precipice of history. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attempting to join them when offered the chance. The power, and control. But they weren't what you wanted. They were a dictatorship, and the Changelings were disconnected. The Vorta and the Jem’Hadar were far too loyal. (But if you’re honest with yourself, the idea of billions dying and surrendering for a quick end is more appealing than a drawn out battle. (The consistency of numbers is wonderful). Everyone is willing to listen to brilliance until it’s saying what they don’t want to hear.

Sloane doesn’t stand a chance when you get your hands on him. Your plans of world domination may not exist anymore; but for people like him, it’s a reminder that you was still Julian Bashir (derived from Julius, like Caesar). And when he tries to kill himself in order to prevent the information you want, then the medical training becomes the most useful thing. (You’re not sure if it’s torture (you don’t care if it is). You need the information and this is the way to get it.) Garak would be proud. (You want to know when holosuite recreations of annihilation became enough.)


End file.
